


About Time

by dareloth



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dareloth/pseuds/dareloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a night off, Ariadne tries to read a book. Eames is not having it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	About Time

**Author's Note:**

> I certainly don't own Harry Potter; all characters to their respective works.

They rarely have quiet moments together. 

Usually, Ariadne is pouring over plans and he's standing in front of a mirror, getting mannerisms and vocal patterns down until he wants to smash his fist through the glass. She usually flings her pencil across the room and storms off to bed before he has so much as a chance to greet her. Sometimes, he'll attempt to make her dinner in the attempts to get some conversation in before they go off to their respective corners. This always seems to backfire, though, since Ariadne is in the kitchen and grabbing herself a burger before Eames has so much as a chance to greet her.

He relishes the quiet time they have.

She's sitting in the arm chair, and he's sprawled across the couch. Eames keeps trying to see what she's reading, but he can't quite read the title. With a frustrated noise, he strains his neck, earning a small laugh from across the room. "Can I help you?" she chirps, and he snorts, rolling onto his stomach with a huff. "Someone's in a mood."

"We finally have an evening, a whole evening to ourselves, and you've got your nose in that book like it knows how to fuck you," he drawls. She snorts and puts her index finger into the page, glancing over the edge of the cover to peek at him. "How about you mosey over here and give me a proper hello? You've barely acknowledged my existence."

Ariadne raises an eyebrow and ignores his requests, trying not to smile at how he's acting. "Arthur really got me into this series. I have two more chapters, and I'm done with the fourth book," she explains. He looks unimpressed, propping himself on his elbow to catch a glimpse of the title.

"You're reading bloody Harry Potter? Are you thirteen?"

She scoffs, balancing the open book on her knee with an incredulous look. "I never got around to reading it before, thank you very much. I mean, I was fourteen when it first came out. It didn't appeal to me then. But Arthur got really personally offended when I said I had never read it. He loaned me his whole collection to read until I finished it."

Eames laughs and stretches his arms, sitting up with an amused look coming across his face. "I never pegged Arthur as a Potter fan," he muses. "Alright, then, pet. If you want to read that, at least read it aloud. The last few pages you have, hm?" 

Ariadne considers his proposition. Knowing him, this will inevitably lead to another ridiculous request. The whole 'give an inch' thing works to a 't' with Eames, though she decides to oblige him. Just this once, she tells herself. And that's all she's going to do. Read to him.

"Ron, Harry, and George kicked, rolled and pushed he unconscious Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, each of whom looked distinctly worse fo--"

"What on earth are you doing?" Eames interrupts. She looks up with her brow furrowed, looking cross. "I want you to do it with proper dialect. Something to make the Queen proud, bless her."

"I am not speaking in a British dialect for you," she insists. Eames grins and holds his hand out, gesturing for her to give him the book. Ariadne lets out an annoyed noise and looks back down, knitting her brows together with clear frustration.  

"Worse for the jumble of jinxes with which they had been hit-- out into the corridor, then they came back into the compartment and rolled the door shut," she continues. Much to Eames' delight, she puts on a English dialect. A good lilt, not Cockney or over-done. He thinks she does a very good job with it.

"'Exploding Snap, anyone?' said Fred, pulling out a p--"

"You need to do different voices for all the characters," Eames chirps. She looks distinctly annoyed and as though she wants to hit him, but she restrains herself. "I want to hear all their personalities come in through your choices," he says. Ariadne clenches her jaw and sucks in another deep breath, slamming the book shut with an irritated look. "Oh, dear, I've made you cross with me, haven't I?"

"I can't even read, can I?" she asks. With apparent amusement, Eames notices she still has a dialect woven in with her vocal tones. "I can't have one night to finish my damned book without you annoying me," Ariadne huffs. She sets aside Harry Potter and lets out another loud exhale, regarding him with an aggravated look. He grin and opens his arms for her, and she sighs and crosses over.

"Ah! Bring the book, Ariadne," he instructs. She grins and grabs it back off the table, settling into his lap and opening where she left off. Eames reaches up and drops his reading glasses onto the bridge of his nose, winding his arms around her waist and setting his chin onto her shoulder. "Alright, pet. This is how you read a piece of English literature," he says, dropping a kiss to her cheek before picking up where she stopped.

The rest of the evening is with him reading the book aloud for her, interrupting sentences to kiss her and squeeze her closer. Despite her previous annoyance, she melts into his arms and against his mouth, happy for the brief break they have from work.

 


End file.
